I'ma get the ending right
by Blue McLain
Summary: Companion piece to 'We just got the start wrong'. So things get a little out of hand between them. It's not like Derek doesn't enjoy it, really, just where is he supposed to go from here? He doesn't want to be like Tyler Warren. Better act on Sarah's advice and listen for the 'babumm babumm babumm'. M/R Slash.


So I had some time to spare (I didn't, actually, but I was in the mood) and wrote the sequel to _We just got the start wrong_. Which is probably more a prequel, but you will see that for yourselves soon enough, I guess. I don't think it's necessary to know about the first part in order to understand this story here. But of course you are all free and very welcome to check it out anyway. =)

This is _**Slash**_, boys and girls!

Enjoy!

* * *

When they are finally dismissed and allowed to go home and told they have the weekend off, it feels like Christmas had come early.

" – and it's said in every single _Star Wars_ movie," Spencer says.

"Really," Derek replies tiredly, eyes fixed to the road, hands on the steering wheel. The night flies by, the only lights are coming from street lamps everywhere and occasionally a car coming from the opposite direction. Not much traffic anymore. It is late and very quiet already and there is something comforting about the babbling genius in the passenger's seat next to him. Even with _Star Wars_ trivia.

"Yes," Spencer says, rubbing his left eye. "It goes from Obi-Wan in _The Phantom Menace_ to Anakin in _Attack of the Clones _and again Obi-Wan in _Revenge of the Sith_. Both Luke and Han say it in _A New Hope_, Leia says it in _The Empire Strikes Back _and finally C3-PO in _Return of the Jedi_."

Derek laughs and stops at a red light, waiting for it to turn green again and let him pass. "Why do you know that?" he asks. He wonders about that often.

"Why, because I watched the movies," Spencer answers, sounding incredibly off-handedly. "It's facts, you can verify it."

"Right." Derek doesn't know what to reply here, moving along the streets again. His mind feels fuzzy, kind of, not so fuzzy that he cannot drive anymore but it takes all he got. "But it's like you know everything, y'know? Like you can tell me how many dents there are on a golf ball, right on the spot."

"336," Spencer says, a vacant look painting his features, facing the window. "On the average golf ball. And it's called dimples. Not, not dents."

"Are you kidding me?" Derek can't help but laugh at that.

"I'm not," and he sounds serious.

"Reid…"

"I'm not kidding you, why would I be kidding?" Spencer says. "You can check it yourself, if you want, just take a pen and a golf ball and count the dimples."

For a split second, Derek contemplates if Spencer might actually have done something like that, sitting down somewhere quiet, legs crossed, with a little white ball in one hand and a pen in the other, counting the dents. It makes him laugh and Spencer flicks him a gaze and they don't say another word for a while.

Carefully, Derek is busy finding a spot to park his car near Spencer's apartment building. Three girls, arm in arm, swaying slightly, looking tipsy and probably on their way to the next party, appear out of nowhere. Derek hits the brakes as they stumble in front of the hood. Fortunately the car moves at snail's pace and the girls (a fourth one sneaks up on them) wave, blinded by the headlights, and shuffle away gigglingly.

"I think they do this on purpose," Spencer muses and looks after them as Derek finds a spot and navigates the car into it. "Happens all the time."

"You know them?" Derek asks. The engine dies down and he removes the ignition key. They sit in darkness for another moment and Derek turns his head to look at Spencer who looks straight ahead.

"Please," he says then, a smile on his lips, and maybe it is the light but it seems bitter. "Women like that don't know guys like me." He gets out of the car and closes the door and Derek follows a second later. Sometimes, he thinks, Spencer forgets that he isn't a sputtering, gawky teenager anymore. He has grown so much since the first time they met, both in appearance as well as in Derek's eyes only, and Derek noticed that people started noticing Spencer for more than his brains. The one oblivious to all this is Spencer himself, apparently.

There is a loud beep and the lights flicker twice as Derek locks the car after Spencer got his Go Bag. Somehow the thing with these girls lingers and when they arrive at the broken elevator, Derek feels the need to ask, "You okay?"

Because the last thing he wants is an upset genius.

But Spencer wrinkles his nose in surprise and pushes the door to the stairwell open. "Why wouldn't I?" he asks and a smile creeps onto his lips and Derek returns it naturally and flicks on the lights.

For seven floors now Spencer walks in front of Derek and Derek catches himself multiple times how he needs to lower or lift his gaze because otherwise it would stick to inappropriate parts of Spencer in front of him. The tip of his tongue grazes the inner edge of his lower lip and as he gets aware of that he buries his teeth in it. Spencer surely has grown and Derek clearly has noticed it.

Arriving in front of the right apartment, Spencer unlocks the door and they step inside.

"Come in, please, make yourself at home," Spencer says. He says it every time. The first few times Derek thought it was a little too much, but by now he feels like he really understood the invitation behind those words. Whatever it is you need to do in order to get comfortable, please feel free to do so.

Derek makes his way into the living room, turns on the lights here and in the kitchen, and Spencer gets the clothes from his Go Bag to the bathroom. Pouring himself a glass of water, Derek rinses his mouth to get rid of that stale taste on his tongue.

"Do you want something to drink?" Spencer asks as he joins him. He rubs his fingers against his pants to dry them. Derek knows. As soon as the day is over and Spencer gets home or makes it to a hotel room, he goes to wash his hands. It is like his very own ritual where he switches from Dr. Reid back to being Spencer.

"As long as it's hot and doesn't taste like ink, I'm in," Derek says and makes room for Spencer so he can get started with whatever he wants to have now.

What happens here is nothing unusual. They do this quite often, to be honest. Cooling down together when they are too wired up to simply go home and close the door behind them and call it a day.

They haven't had the time to cool down in about four weeks.

"What the hell, Kid?" Derek asks as he peeks into the fridge. "Where did all your food go?" The coffee maker serves the background noise and the fridge sparkles clean and empty as if if was only ever bought and placed here.

Rubbing his eyes again, Spencer hunches his shoulders. "We had three back to back cases, what did you expect?" he asks, as if that in itself would be an explanation. Maybe it is. It is late, though, and Derek doesn't want to think too hard. "Why, you, are you hungry?"

"No, Reid, looking for food is part of my DNA code," Derek says and closes the fridge again. Spencer's mouth hangs slightly open and his lips are pulled taut over his teeth. He looks like he is having a hard time understanding Derek's not very successful attempt at sarcasm. Countless informations about countless aspects of the phenomenon that is this thing called DNA are right there on the tip of his tongue, Derek can almost see it. Then his face lights up and he turns to the far left cupboard and pulls out a cookie jar. Like, a huge one. Half-full with cookies.

Derek looks at it sceptically. "Those are cookies," he states. "Why do you have cookies?" Those even seem to be homemade. Derek hasn't had homemade cookies in ages.

"There is this elderly lady on the fifth floor who seems to think that I'm too skinny," Spencer answers. "I sometimes help her with her groceries. Then she would give me this. She says I remind her of her grandson. Her grandson is seven years old."

"Wow," Derek grins lazily.

"Yeah. But if you don't want them…" He attempts to put the jar back to where it came from but Derek snatches it away, lifts the lid and they indeed smell as good as they look.

"Who said I don't want them?" he mumbles and is off to the living room. He can imagine Spencer's smile now and it is enough to make the corners of his mouth curl upwards as well. Sinking down onto the couch, he already chews his first cookie. Homemade, definitely.

Spencer joins him shortly after, with two steaming cups of coffee. He sits down next to Derek, sort of stiff at first, but after a minute or so, he scoots into the corner, pulling one leg up and angling his body towards him. Derek's head leans against the backrest and they look at each other, Derek a little more open. His gaze is unwavering, while Spencer's eyes flicker across Derek's face and sometimes even past it.

"What's up?" Derek asks quietly, raising a hand and leaning its back against Spencer's cheek.

His gaze drops and lands somewhere between them, and he shakes his head without losing contact. "Nothing," he says, "just, there's just a lot on my mind."

"Like what?" The strain in his shoulder isn't that bad, he could endure it for a while longer. Still, he lifts his arm a little more, puts his elbow onto the backrest and his fingers touch Spencer's hair. And while he talks ("Like, I close my eyes and Allison Cody still stares at me."), the tip of Derek's pointer traces the hairline on his forehead. This is in its own way pretty amazing.

Voices purl, words dribble from their mouths in quiet stirs and slow rhythms. Derek's legs are spread, his feet wiggle from side to side, heels digging into the carpet. Spencer holds his mug in his lap and doesn't object to his hair being constantly somehow touched.

It wasn't always like that.

Derek remembers clearly (it is rather hard to forget, actually) how awkward it was in the beginning. Since he was just a kid, right from the start, Derek has learned to convey affection through bodily contact. A casual pat on the arm, a lingering touch of on the back, a hand clasped over a shoulder. And then he met this guy here who was almost obsessed with avoiding each and every possible physical contact, because since he was just a kid, right from the start, Spencer has learned that physical contact could easily mean harm – and it did, in far too many cases.

And now here they are, sitting side by side, with Derek almost naturally playing with Spencer's hair. They came quite a long way.

The thing is, the way isn't over yet, and both will realize this.

Somehow they get swept away into to kitchen again. The mugs are empty and Spencer rinses them out, the sink gathering the sound of running water. It is late. Derek leans against the counter next to him, watching him, content in how things turned out this evening. Could be worse. Spencer could be trapped in the dark of his home with Allison Cody staring at him and Derek could be wandering around aimlessly with the echoes of gun shots ringing in his ears. So yeah, could definitely be a lot worse.

They come face to face as Spencer puts the dish towel away and turns to Derek again, and neither of them seem to have noticed that the distance between them has vanished. They are impossibly close, Derek doesn't even remember to have moved and Spencer simply turned to look at him.

It happens. Sometimes.

In those cases, when they miss how things go and forget to keep an eye on each other and the way they have to behave in order too keep things on a regular level, things get just slightly awkward and they take a step back, laugh it off, scratch their necks and with just enough effort they can act as if nothing happened. Derek waits for that now, for the step back and the sudden change of topic to something meaningless.

It doesn't happen. Spencer simply stares at him, body becoming stiff, unable to move.

Come on, Derek thinks, pull away, Kid, come on. Don't play games, Reid, this has been funny enough.

Spencer licks his lips, the tip of his tongue ghosting over the edge. "If," his voice is slightly timid, "if I kiss you now, would that be okay?"

The question hangs there for a few moments. Spencer seems to hold his breath, at least Derek thinks so, and this is a situation that feels highly unreal, because Derek had some kind of fantasies, maybe even hopes, but never outright expectations, and now there is Spencer, closer than ever, meeting him almost more than halfway. Instead of an answer, Derek aims for his lips and presses his mouth to Spencer's.

A fleeting contact and Spencer's first reaction is to move his head back to avoid it. But only for a split second, before it becomes a firm touch of lips and nothing else. Testing the waters. There is a flutter in his belly and Derek's heartbeat gets strong and fast and heavy, and he grips the counter plate behind him in an awkward angle, so his hands won't start to just wander off in uncharted territory.

It is unexpectedly easy to just go with it. He can block out the fact that it is probably not the wisest decision to kiss Spencer out of the blue. But it feels too good to just stop and frankly, he waited for that for way too long to just end it here. He allows himself to enjoy it and deal with the consequences when they catch up with him.

Turns out, it doesn't take long for them to do so.

The unfamiliar connection dissolves and they breathe onto each other's parted lips, stalling the moment of opening their eyes again and let what just happened become undeniable reality.

Leaning back, Spencer exhales slowly, mouth shaped in a tiny o, and a silent "wow" dances on his tongue. Derek has no room to pull back much, so he stays where he is and watches Spencer. This is easier and more comfortable than to analyze his own reaction. It was… good, he guesses. Would be a lie to say he didn't want for this to happen or that he didn't enjoy it. But to actually live through this now feels… strange.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Spencer says now. He pulls back and steps away, eyes wide and downcast, lips pulled into his mouth. Derek straightens himself and leans into him a little and Spencer tries to get away more.

"Sorry for what?" Derek asks, his body moves on its own and takes another step in his direction, eyes searching imploringly for his.

"This." Spencer is busy looking away and lifts his hands as Derek reaches for them. "This, I'm sorry for this, it wasn't, I did, didn't want – "

"You didn't?"

"I, no! No, I did. I did, I just, if you didn't, I mean I'm sorry, if – "

To keep him from moving away further Derek puts a hand on Spencer's hip. Through a navy blue shirt and a grayish sweater vest, his fingers dig into taut flesh and he feels a hipbone lightly prodding into his palm. Spencer grabs Derek's wrist and for a second there Derek thinks Spencer might want to shake him off. But nothing like that happens and pale fingers encircle his wrist, holding it.

"Hey, everything's good," Derek assures him, because those might be the magic words that will get Spencer to look at him again.

"No," Spencer says and breathes a helpless laugh, shaking his head, lifting the other hand, but not trying to back off anymore. "No, it's not. Everything is far from good, this isn't… I, I don't know why that happened, I'm s-"

"Maybe 'cause you wanted to kiss me and I wanted to kiss you and that for quite some time now," Derek offers. And he was wrong. _Those_ are the magic words that get Spencer to look at him again. "Wanna do it again?" And he didn't think about the words, they are kind of surprising for him, too. But he did think about kissing Spencer, more than he would like to admit, and after a first taste, it isn't too hard to want more now. For him.

It is unbelievably easy, if he doesn't think too much.

Spencer only stares, throat tense as a coil spring. Several emotions flicker across his face, each too quick to name it, and Derek isn't sure he even wants to know now. He wants to kiss Spencer again and he thinks Spencer wants to kiss him, too.

The grip around his wrist tightens and Derek isn't sure when or why but eventually their lips meet once more.

It is lips and pressure and intensity at first, and Derek is good with that. He can work with that. When a little tongue gets involved, Derek feels a hand on his neck. He isn't always good with that, to be honest. With the hand. A chill runs down his spine, not completely educed by pleasure only.

For a heartbeat or so, there is a tricky feeling cursing through him, one Derek would never be able to associate with Spencer. And he doesn't know how he chases it away, but he does, and for a good five minutes they are standing in the middle of Spencer's kitchen, kissing each other for all they are worth.

"Where did you learn that?" Derek asks between one kiss and the next.

"I read a lot," he simply answers, and a smile tugs on Derek's lips, much like Spencer's teeth do. His mouth tastes like too sweet coffee and it is everything Derek imagined and nothing he could have ever come up with himself.

The hand cupping his nape becomes an arm hooked around his neck with a force Derek didn't expect. Another hand lies on his belt. Derek's own hands are occupied as well, one tangled in Spencer's hair, the other one sprawled over the small of Spencer's back. His pinky goes a little overboard and sneaks under the waistband.

When his fingers curl to tug at the hem of Spencer's shirt, he knows he needs to pull the brakes.

"Whoa." He tears his mouth away and turns his head and turns again as Spencer tries to follow. "Wait. Whoa, wait." He touches Spencer's chin with the hand that was buried in chestnut hair just moments ago. The other one settles back onto this tempting hipbone.

"Sorry," Spencer says, looking like some sort of spell just lost its power over him. "Sorry, sorry." He removes himself from Derek, and surprisingly, Derek doesn't like it. After all, he can only assume what the always considerate Spencer Reid might be thinking about Derek putting a stop here, but he guesses he has a pretty decent picture of what that could be.

"Don't be sorry," Derek says, grabbing one arm to get him a little closer. "Just, if we go on like this, this will get really uncomfortable." Because he already feels his blood rushing through his veins with unusual warmth and he knows what that means.

"Uncomfortable." Spencer looks at him blankly, the same expression painting his features as if he is that close to decipher the speech pattern of an Unsub. "I have a bedroom," he states then.

And really? What kind of comeback is that?

"Do you." It isn't even a question. The last bits of their conversation should be so stupid, and they are. They can say what they want about Spencer – he definitely knows how to kiss and he certainly isn't that naïve as to not know what Derek was getting at. Still, Spencer only nods and Derek's eyes might be tricking him, but he thinks he sees how Spencer's head tilts the tiniest bit to the right, to the general direction of where said bedroom of his would be.

An invitation.

And an invitation Derek isn't about to turn down, because it is late and Derek is a simple man and he wanted this to happen for years. So he closes the gap to Spencer's welcoming mouth and continues where he left off, as if there was never any break. Easy, so easy, Derek's head feels like it is filled with cotton candy, disgustingly sweet and mushy to the point where Derek just wants the rising heat to keep rising, to melt them.

They stumble into the living room, Spencer kind of leading the way backwards with Derek giving their steps some direction. They each are tugging at the hem of the other one's shirt. It doesn't take long for Spencer to lose his sweater vest and Derek's shirt follows suit.

But now, standing already half naked in Spencer's living room, with hands roaming his chest, hands that are too big, too calloused to be the ones of a woman, his skin suddenly starts prickling under an icy feeling and he loosens the kiss, almost shaking Spencer's lips off.

"Wait," he murmurs again, taking a moment to breathe. His heart is beating hard and his chest rises and falls rather rapidly and he can feel his pulse shaking through his entire body. Spencer stills, cheeks flushed and pupils blown and there is still a part of Derek that is able to find this look on him rather appealing. Yet the majority withing him jerks to a halt, reaching boundaries Derek both hates and fears. "I might need to stop," he says nevertheless, because Spencer deserves honesty, no matter what. And Derek needs him to understand. Because he is flawed and broken and just because he somehow managed to patch himself up doesn't mean the cracks might not tear open again.

And Spencer wouldn't be Spencer, if he wouldn't be able to understand. "Everyone might need to stop," he replies simply, but that wasn't what Derek was getting at.

"Man, you know what I mean," he says, the slightest hint of annoyance tinting his voice – annoyance for Spencer because he is playing dumb, annoyance for himself for bringing that up in the first place. He doesn't want this to get in the way of something that could be really great, he doesn't want this to destroy something really really good, but he knows he can't guarantee it won't happen anyway.

"Yes," Spencer answers, he knows what Derek means, "and I mean what I say." Everyone might need to stop. Derek might need to stop. Spencer might need to stop.

Briefly, Derek wonders, if this is why he is angry and annoyed but not embarrassed like he expected. But he doesn't say anything, and to prove his point, to show that it is okay to stop, Spencer slowly, carefully, removes his hands from Derek's chest and belt, and holds his palms up. No resentment, no pity, no mockery. It's okay and nothing more. Derek can see. No means no. Stop means stop. That's the deal.

With that knowledge, that reassurance, Spencer loses his tie and shirt approximately two minutes later. A deal is a deal, and Derek can work with that.

They got rid of their pants and socks when they finally make it all the way to Spencer's bed. Spencer himself opened Derek's belt with nimble fingers and Derek doesn't know whether he expected him to fumble his way around bashfully or to be that forward. He can't concentrate on that. The feeling of cotton candy is still there, making his thoughts get all tangled up in each other. It is just so easy with Spencer. Maybe because it _is _Spencer, because what he has gained from Derek over the years can't even be just called trust anymore.

Derek loses sight of the details along the way. Everything is hazy and blurry, a mess of heat and intensity with Derek and Spencer somewhere in between.

Highlights flicker through the night. How Spencer lowers himself onto Derek, how he moves over him and rolls his hips, and how his hair falls in his face. No awkwardness, no self-consciousness, no stops. When Derek sits up, Spencer inhales sharply and leans into the touch of Derek shoving strands of sweaty hair back. It is too much contact and too much closeness and Derek can't get enough of it.

A flicker of how they switch positions rather abruptly and Spencer finds himself pressed into the mattress beneath Derek. Spencer's ass is in his lap, engulfing him to the hilt, hands desperately trying to somehow hold onto the sheets. One of his legs ends up hooked over Derek's shoulder, the other one winds itself around his waist and it's so hot and Spencer's so sexy and he's melting, oh God.

Around that time, there is a high whimper coming from Spencer and he reaches out for Derek, his fingers brushing his abs.

"Wait," he breathes hastily, "wait wait wait," and it is all Derek can do in his hazy state not to tear himself away from Spencer and thereby hurt both Spencer and himself. It's the deal. Spencer grinds his head back into the pillow, exposing his throat, and his nails scrape across his skin, leaving a burning trail around his belly button. "Please… ah, please, don't stop," he forces through gritted teeth.

_Don't stop._ It's the deal. And Derek wants it. The deal. He wants Spencer. He complies willingly.

The grip of Spencer's legs around his frame tightens and as the climax rips through both of them, Derek actually sees stars. He wonders where those are coming from. It was good, sure, but it was certainly not the best he has ever had. It was sloppy and they were both exhausted to begin with.

But intense it was, and maybe the fact alone that this is Spencer here is enough to blow Derek's mind. He wouldn't be surprised at all.

Somehow they end up lying next to each other, condom disposed and the worst stains wiped off with a tissue. Now here they are, outworn, satisfied and boneless, lips connected through never-ending idle kisses. They fall asleep like that, over those kisses, Derek's wrist lying somewhere on Spencer's hip, touching each other in one way or the other.

This could be the end of it, a moment that is close to pretty much perfect. Derek wouldn't mind. The last time he was that at peace with himself and the rest of the world and all was a very long time ago. So this really would make a great ending.

What he doesn't realize, and what hits him like a hammer, is the fact that this isn't the end. Never could be. It is only ever the beginning.

Derek opens his eyes at the first pale glimmer of morning light. It is only about five in the morning. One of his arms lies heavily on Spencer's middle and Spencer's arm covers his. Their faces are close and Spencer's features are smooth and relaxed in the deepest of slumber. And Derek should be just like that.

But he is awake. And his first reaction, pure and simple and shamefully natural, is to panic.

He doesn't even exactly know why. He sees Spencer's face so close in front of his and he only has to close his eyes and the picture of what he looked like when he came burns behind his lids. He can't get rid of it.

Sitting up slightly, he looks around but can't see very much. When did they manage to turn off the lights? Derek is naked and it shouldn't be surprising, he shouldn't be shocked but God, he is. He slept with Spencer. They had sex. That shouldn't be as stunning as it is and Derek shouldn't react the way he does. He knows that. He had imagined a scenario like that one right here, more often than he can count, yet something about the almost none-existent distance between Spencer's face and his own is so unsettling that his brain shuts down.

They had sex.

How could Derek let things get so out of hand that he didn't give the slightest about his self-control? No cheap fuck, not the greatest sex in the world be worth risking what he has with Spencer, this bond, this understanding, this complete feeling of trust. How could he jeopardize this?

His eyes adjust to the darkness and he carefully removes his arm from Spencer's body. Sliding out of bed and finding his clothes happens quickly and quietly, and with his pants and briefs and socks in his hands he creeps to the door. When he hears a rustling behind him, he freezes, almost expecting Spencer's voice asking him what he is doing and where he is going. And wouldn't that be a brilliant question. But all Spencer does is rolling over to the other side, sighing and bringing his hand to his face. He is naked.

They both are. God.

He leaves as silently as possible, the door stays only a crack open. He puts on his briefs and steps into his pants and only sits down on the couch long enough to slip on his socks and grab the shirt that dangles over the backrest. When he enters the hallway, he basically leaves no trace behind.

The blue shadows of the an morning is tinted with the orange light of the street lamps. They are barely needed anymore and it is probably only a matter of minutes until their glow will disappear. Streets are empty and his breath forms tiny pale clouds in front of his mouth.

The car isn't that far away, only a short walk down the street. Derek, without realizing it, makes it all the way to the driver's side and even unlocks the car, before he notices what he is about to do here. He halts, thinks again and takes a step back, stunned that he caught himself actually trying to run away. Not ditching a pickup after a night of fun but running away from Spencer. He takes a step back and forces his breathing down.

What. The hell. Just happened?

Derek can't wrap his head around it. What just happened? First he fucks him, then he leaves and overall Derek is just about to mess everything up. What is he doing? Why did he let this happen?

There was always something about Spencer that intrigued Derek. Something about that vast knowledge of his, that empathy, that innocence. It didn't take long for Derek to realize that he wanted to protect it, this pureness he hasn't seen in too many people. Over the years they grew closer than Derek would have ever intended or imagined and Derek is affected by it in more ways than one. Derek isn't blind. And he doesn't call Spencer Pretty Boy for no reason. So technically he knows how things could happen, he knows what made his self-control take a hike.

He just doesn't know what to make out of it.

The sky above him turns paler by the minute and when the lights of the street lamps flicker and then just disappear, he finds himself a bench and flops onto it. It was a long week, a row of tiring cases and an unexpected encounter with Spencer on top of that. The night was short and Derek's head is filled with an always repeating circle of thoughts.

He rubs his face with both hands and leans forward. His cheeks are cold and he only ever realizes that he reached for his phone when he hears the dial tone. Strange how some things, no matter how long ago, seem so natural to him that he doesn't even have to think about it.

A click, then some rustling. "Yeah," someone sighs.

"It's me," Derek says.

"It's – what?" Some more rustling and somewhere further away is a deep groan. "Do you _know_ what time it is? Who is this?"

"Your brother, Sarah," he says and leans back.

"Derek?" It sounds like she sits up hastily in her bed, then slips out of it and takes some aimless steps, and Derek smiles to himself. "Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"You're _fine_? It's four in the morning, Derek, you don't call at _four _in the morning when you're _fine_!" she exclaims high-pitched and hisses to someone else to shut up. "What _happened_?"

"Nothing," he says and feels actually bad. His sister isn't a morning person, never was. It was funny, when they were kids, to call her for breakfast about two hours too early. Today it is not so much fun anymore. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize what time it is, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Derek Morgan," she grinds out impatiently. "If you don't tell me what happened _right fucking now_, I'm going to call mom and then you can talk to _her_. Spit it out."

This threat should probably not work as well as it does and Derek laughs at himself for how much it actually affects him. But he did call Sarah out of reasons and that thought is enough to sober him up immediately. "Listen, this is stupid, I'm just – " But he knows better than to hang up now because Sarah is awake and clearly worried and she won't let go of the matter now. He exhales. "I did something stupid."

"You – oh. Wow." She is quiet for a moment and then laughs confused. "You did something stupid. Derek, if you called me every time you did something stupid in the last years, there wouldn't have been much sleep for me at all, I think."

"Sarah." He doesn't feel much like joking now.

"Sorry, that was mean. You, just for the record, you're alright?"

"Yes."

"And you're not hurt and it's just…" She trails off.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Okay. Just gimme a sec, I'll be right back with you." She most likely leaves the bedroom now, telling her boyfriend it's family matters and heads for the kitchen. Sure enough he hears the sound of water running as she prepares herself a tea. "I'm a little dozy," she explains. "Okay, so what's up? You did something stupid. What?"

Derek takes another breath and steels himself for he doesn't know what. This is somehow harder than he expected. "I had sex."

She almost chokes on her tea and coughs theatrically. "Oh wow," she rasps, a tiny laugh tickling in the back of her throat. "You had sex? Well, congratulations, baby brother, but honestly, what's so special about it? It's not like the ladies don't dig you."

"Yeah, that's the thing, it wasn't a lady," he simply states.

He doesn't need to say any more, because, at least for Sarah, this pretty much says it all. "Oh," she makes, more serious now. She understands. Maybe she doesn't (Derek himself isn't sure he understands), but she tries. After his family has learned about the darkest times of his youth, there was a lot of talking and somehow Sarah turned out to be the one Derek could open up to the most. Not because he doesn't trust his mom or Désirée. But it is nasty and ugly and horrible and it hurts them, yet when Derek comes down to it, he can't hold back and it really is just too painful. And Sarah can bear it. She is that strong.

"Say something," he pleads quietly after a short break.

"I don't know what," she admits and Derek imagines her stroking the brim of her mug with her fingertips. "I might say something stupid." Something wrong. Something that hurts. Something that brings back unwanted memories.

"It's okay," he replies. He feels actually rather calm, he just… felt the need to talk to someone.

"Okay. So." She probably sits up straighter now, because it makes her feel like she can handle the matter at hand. Getting her thoughts in order. She is doing that ever since she was only a little girl. "Are you okay? With this, I mean? Did he… uh. Was it… God."

"It was – " The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "It was, ah, consensual., if that's what you wanted to know."

"Yeah," she says. "Yes. Good. That's good. That… you know, correct me, if I'm wrong, which I hope I'm not, by the way, but you don't seem to be too bothered by it." When he hums a tone that indicates that she is right about him not being too bothered by it, he can almost see her shoulders slump with relief. After another while, and far more lightheartedly, she says: "I take it, it was good, then?"

Derek blows a laugh through his nose and holds his breath for a second. "Yeah," he sighs then, "Yeah. Yes, it was."

"Good," she says in a tiny voice, before she gives into a giggle that makes her sound like a fourteen-year-old. "Oh God, Derek." Talking about your sibling's sex life never fails to be embarrassingly delightful. "I'm happy that you seem to be happy but don't think you can fool me. You don't call your big sister, if you just found yourself a cutie and got lucky and everything's rainbows. What's the problem?"

What, indeed. Perhaps the point of the matter is, "It was one of my co-workers." He scratches his head. "The guy. He's on my team."

She thinks for a second, and then the last penny drops. "Don't tell me you got laid by this Dr. Reid of yours."

Too perplex to answer immediately, Derek rubs his chin. Should he really be surprised? "Why would you think it's him?" he asks, trying to sound casual.

"Oh please," she snorts and it feels like she bumps her shoulder against his in a way only a sister can. "You say _co-worker_, you almost always mean your team, and you even said yourself that he's on your team. And there are… how many guys there? Three? Your team captain man, this other mafia guy and cute Dr. Reid. Right?"

"Cute," Derek repeats.

"Well, yes, maybe a little too skinny, too skinny for me anyway, but yes, kinda cute. And I think he's more your type than this team captain of yours."

"Sarah – " He laughs and shakes his head. "Did you take profiling lessons without telling me or what?"

"This isn't your profiling magic, it's knowing my brother," she says off-handedly. "Seriously, Derek, do you _hear _the way you're talking about him? And then you go and say you had sex with a guy from your team, I mean, who else could it have been?"

"I get it, I get it." He exhales slowly and moves his legs a little. The pale blue morning sky is splattered with tiny gray clouds that don't look too promising of rain. It isn't exactly cold, but Derek shoves his free hand into his pocket anyway to keep it warm. Now that they have come to this, he doesn't know how to proceed.

"So it's him," Sarah concludes after a pause. "So, what now? What's the problem here?"

"The problem? The problem _is_ that it's him," Derek answers. Isn't that obvious? "I mean, it's Reid, y'know? We work together, we… ah, I don't know. What do I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"What _can_ I do? I mean, see, we work together. We're friends and this – " This changes everything. He exhales again, sort of annoyed now. He's not a thinker, he's a doer, but he can't come up with a single thing to do now. "This is so stupid. This wasn't meant to happen, it only makes things complicated." This is pretty much why he never even tried to just go for it. There is no such thing as _just_, when Spencer is involved.

"Come on now, why are you freaking out?" Sarah asks, her tone that one of a patient woman trying to coax a child into something that is unpleasant but necessary.

"Wh-… Sarah, he's my best friend. He's like a brother to me."

"Huh, okay, but you don't want to get into the pants of your broth-"

"I know!" he cuts her off sharply, which earns him a stern look from a lady across the streets who is walking her dog. "I know that. Okay?" he says quieter and dips his head to the lady in a silent greeting in order to calm her.

"Yeah, okay," Sarah relents, without hesitation. "Just maybe you want think of something else, because it's clearly not the brother thing. Take that from someone who actually has a brother."

"Why do you have to be like that?" he asks, unable to hide his growing aggravation.

"Like what, Derek, I'm trying to help!" She slaps the table she sits on. "You don't like my methods, you go talk to someone else. But you're gonna have a hard time shaking me off and if you try, I'm gonna sit mom and Desi down on your ass."

If she really wanted to, she was always effective in shutting him up.

"Now," she says more calmly. "Sorry, but… I don't really understand you. What's so bad about this? You said it yourself, you're friends – scratch the brother thing, you never fooled me with that one anyway. So you're friends, you obviously have the hots for each other, you said it was consensual _and_ you said it was pretty damn good. That doesn't seem too bad for me."

It sounds so easy, when she says it like that. The thing is, "I don't know what to make out of this. Where do I go from here?"

"Again, where do you _want _to go?" she asks, and Derek doesn't answer. Can he go somewhere from here? Birds are chirping in the trees all around and very slowly the streets get brighter. "Derek," Sarah starts, "I don't know what this means to you, I can only guess, and in the end it's up to you anyway. But I _do_ know how you talk about your Dr. Reid and I know as well that you've never called me in the middle of the night just to tell me that you got lucky with a cutie."

Because this isn't about just any cutie.

"Doesn't the fact that it makes you think so hard means something? To me, and I'm not judging or anything, really, but to me it looks like you got it pretty bad for him."

"I don't know," Derek admits, as honestly as he can, because right now his brain doesn't want to ponder over the whys and maybes anymore. He cares deeply for Spencer, that much is out of question. He admires both body and mind and honestly, Spencer got so deep under his skin that Derek doesn't quite know where it ends.

"Okay," Sarah says, "that's okay, I mean, you don't need to know right now. Go find it out."

"What if he doesn't want to?" Derek asks. What if Spencer doesn't want to find out where this could be going?

Sarah exhales loudly, a tiny puff as her lips part in the gush. "Well," she says again. "Uhm, yeah. If he doesn't want to, he's an idiot 'cause you're a great guy and everyone should be glad if you got your eye on them." This educes a tired laugh from Derek and Sarah chuckles relieved. "No, but seriously. I don't know. Do you think he might not want to?"

A good question. Spencer is a careful person and doesn't trust easily. This is no secret. So for him to do something so out of character must mean… something. Right? Derek knows Spencer values their friendship, he wouldn't risk it over some meaningless prank or mindless sex in the numbing aftermath of a stressful case.

So Derek says, "No," then, "I don't know," then, "Maybe, I don't know, Sarah, I think…"

"Hey," she says lightheartedly, "come on, don't sweat it. You're a great guy and I'm not saying that because you're my brother. You really are. And I remember your Dr. Reid as very sweet and very kind and I don't think he'd just go and jump your bones on a whim. You know? And if you're not sure about him or yourself or whatever, just listen to your heart. Or to his. That sounds sappy as hell, I know, but trust me, if his heart goes _babumm babumm babumm _real fast, he's probably got a thing for you, too."

_Babumm babumm babumm_ real fast, huh? Well, at least for Derek, that shouldn't be a problem. He sighs and smiles and knows why he has always sought Sarah's advice. Talking to her wasn't always an option, but when it was and he came to her, it always helped.

"So I guess I be heading back now, huh?" he says, almost to himself.

"Back?" Sarah repeats. "Back to where? Where are you?"

Derek looks around. He didn't even notice where he wandered off to. "Outside," he answers. "Needed to get some air. Stretch my legs." He needed to think. And to talk.

"You're outside. And where's your doctor?"

"Still sleeping, I guess." He hopes.

"Sleeping. In his bed?" And because Sarah doesn't need Derek's answer to put two and two together, she simply continues. "You _snuck out_? Oh my God, Derek, you fucking asshole."

"What?" is all Derek can come up with at this sudden accusation. "Now wait a minute, I didn't _sneak _out – "

"Oh, you didn't? Well, he's still lying in bed, if you're lucky, and you're, you're not even in the same apartment anymore!" The way she raises her voice makes Derek suspect her boyfriend has a hard time sleeping on. "This is pretty much sneaking out to me. This is what assholes do, this is what Tyler Warren would do, Derek, but not _you_!"

She actually played the Tyler Warren card. That's low. Tyler Warren was an asshole who went to the same college as Sarah and tried to woo her, apparently. And when Sarah decided to give it a shot, Tyler Warren lured her into bed and left to morning after, never to return again. Derek, three years Tyler Warren's junior, almost broke his nose for it.

"You didn't really compare me to that fucker," Derek says.

"I did because this is exactly what _you _just did!" She huffs speechlessly. "This is, Derek, this is where your parents get insulted and the way they raised you is questioned."

"Can you stop this?" he says loudly and rubs his forehead. He starts to actually feel like an asshole now, but this wasn't what he intended. He didn't mean to sneak out and dump Spencer or hurt him, he simply needed to clear his mind. "I just needed to think, okay?"

"Well, are you finished?" she asks impatiently. Then she takes a deep breath to calm herself down. "I'm sorry. I'm, I'm really sorry, I know this isn't easy for you, and I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just, you owe it to him. You owe him to at least be there until morning, until he wakes up and… oh God, even if it's not what you want and you don't want to stay… this is… you don't _do_ things like that. You just don't."

Guys like Derek break guys that act like Derek just now their noses for acting like that.

He doesn't know what has changed since he called Sarah, maybe just a little switch being flipped in his head. He doesn't know what he wants either, not exactly, nor what Spencer wants. He just knows that, if he would get a second chance, he wouldn't leave again. Listening to his heart, it goes _babumm babumm babumm_ real fast.

"I'm going back now," Derek says finally, getting up and taking the first step to where he came from.

"Yeah? Ah, that's good," Sarah replies, exhaling with relief for his sake. "Listen, baby bro, I'm sorry I was yelling at you. I really can't imagine what this means to you and… wow, I feel like a horrible sister now."

"Nah, don't be stupid. Y'know, don't tell Desi, but you're like one of my two favorite sisters ever."

"Oh really, I'm flattered," she laughs.

"Yeah. Sorry again for the wake up call," he says, pushing through deserted streets with only a handful of people passing him by. It is still to early. He shouldn't be here. "And thanks for listening. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"That's what I'm here for," she says, downing the last of her tea before laughing softly. "Oh my, I never thought I'd see the day where my tough FBI baby brother turns into a blushing teenager after his first kiss." Derek never got the chance to be an average teenage boy. He has to catch up on the one or other experience. "Hey, if you really like him as much as I think you do, try not to screw up, okay?"

"I'll try," he says. "Ah, and you don't tell mama or Des yet, yeah? I'll tell them later sometime, I just – "

" – you're busy getting your story straight. Sure." It feels like when they were still kids and the world was still a place full of promises and light and pureness. When they would devour a cookie jar just before dinner or try and get a little sneak peek at their Christmas presents, just the two of them as the little devils of mischief they were. Sometimes they would let Désirée in on it so she wouldn't feel left out (and keep her mouth shut). Their mother would suspect something, unable to put her finger on what the three had contrived, and their father would, once they got caught (and they _always_ got caught) calm their mom down. Punishment was tough sometimes but always fair and never as hard as it could have been. But even with crumbs on their mouths or an eye still fixed on the presents, they would never betray each other. People could say what they wanted about the Morgan children – they would fight tooth and nail for each other.

"Pray to God that your doctor's still sleeping," she sighs. Derek rolls his eyes because yes, okay, he got it, it wasn't the best decision. But he can't change it now. "Oh," she adds, "and tell him that, if _he _screws up, he's gonna answer to me. And that won't be pretty."

Derek always tried to protect his mother and sisters. He and Sarah got their hands full keeping an eye on Désirée. Sometimes he forgets that they watch over him, too. Spencer better watches his back. They fight tooth and nail.

On his way back, Derek remembers that there is nothing inside Spencer's fridge and they can't live on cookies alone. So he makes a little detour to get some milk, some eggs, things to make an appropriate breakfast. He feels lighter after talking to Sarah, his thoughts less tangled. He still doesn't really know what to make out of the previous night but at least he is sure now that he wants to make _something_ out of it, and he thinks that, with Spencer, he can.

When he arrives at the front door of Spencer's apartment, though, he gets slightly nervous nonetheless. Bag dangling at his side, he unlocks the door quietly with the key Spencer has given him a long time ago and steps inside. For a moment he stands there and waits for a sound that proofs that Spencer is as awake as Derek is. The shower, the coffee maker, the turning of a page in a book.

There is nothing. Spencer is still sleeping, and Derek releases a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

Putting the groceries onto the kitchen table, he decides to just leave them there for now. There are more urgent things at hand. Spencer sleeping in his bed without him, for instance. And the prospect of joining him there makes his eyes clouded and his body tingle with tiredness.

He strips down to his boxers again in the living room, throwing his clothes carelessly over the backrest of the couch where they were supposed to be stay from the start. Quiet steps carry him to the bedroom door, only a crack wide open like he left it, and he slowly pushes inside. Spencer lies in bed, buried beneath the covers and pillow, looking as if he went through a round of tossing and turning.

His heartbeat speeds up and makes something inside his belly flutter, and if this is what being a teenager is about, he is glad he gets to experience this now with Spencer.

Tiptoeing to the empty bedside he abandoned some time ago, he carefully lowers himself onto the mattress, halts as Spencer's body tenses up and waits until he relaxes again. It is kind of shill in here and a shiver runs down his spine, and when he gets himself under the covers that are already heated up by Spencer's warmth, he stretches out next to him. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces and his arm finds its way around Spencer's torso all on its own. He eases his head onto the pillow, careful not to wake Spencer up. As he waits for his body and mind to settle down, his arm tightens and his hand finds the center of Spencer's chest.

Just under his fingertips, there is a promising heartbeat, going _babumm babumm babumm_ real fast.

–

_Testing, testing, I'm just suggesting, you and I might just be the best thing. –_ **Marianas Trench**

* * *

That's it for now, folks. Guess it turned out to be a little corny again. Oh well.

And for all those, who are curious about what happens after Derek's return: take a look at _We just got the start wrong_, somewhere in my profile. Maybe you'll like it. If you are in the mood and have some time to spare, let me know what you think. Your opinion is most certainly appreciated.

See you soon, everyone!


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